The Man in the Santa Claus Suit
by Mary Kleinsmith
Summary: The Christmas party for the children’s hospital ward turns interesting. S/J existing relationship. Humor. Note: This story was written some time ago and posted on my web site, but I'm only now getting to post it here.


The Man in the Santa Claus Suit

By Mary Kleinsmith

Category: HolidayFic, in response to the samandjack Christmas fic challenge. Humor

Pairings: Oh, yeah. Definitely Sam/Jack. A very brief mention of Daniel/Janet

Rating: PG13

Season: 7 onward

Spoilers: None

Summary: The Christmas party for the children's hospital ward turns interesting

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I know it, and the only profit I'm getting from it is enjoyment. Please don't sue me.

The Man in the Santa Claus Suit

By Mary Kleinsmith

I can't believe Janet talked us all into this. I mean, yes, I know that each year, one of the military divisions in the area does it, but I somehow always figured the SGC wouldn't come up for the rotation, being a secret government agency and all. Apparently, Janet didn't see any reason we shouldn't take our turn at hosting the Christmas party for the Children's ward of the base hospital, and, knowing that our little division hadn't **ever** done it, she volunteered us. Not that the idea of seeing Jack dressed up like the biggest Christmas elf in existence – the man in the red suit himself – doesn't appeal to me, but . . .

Okay, I admit it. I'd much rather be nestled into my little house or Jack's big house, having dinner by candlelight and putting up Christmas decorations. See, nobody knows it yet, but he and I have been together for some time now. Yes, it's against regulations, but we've decided that we just don't care. This is more important, and since we **know** that we can do our jobs without our personal life interfering, they'll only find out if we tell them. Or if they come looking, which they won't.

Oh, I suspect that Daniel and Teal'c know – that's no big deal, though. I know they'll keep our secret. And I told Jonas in our last communiqué. He's become a great confidante since he's left, and writing back and forth lets me miss him all the less. He's like the little brother I never had. He tells me about the girls he dates on Kelowna, and I keep him up to date on everybody here. He asks about Janet a lot, now that I think about it; he may have developed a bit of a crush on her when she took care of him during that whole business with the tumor. They both know that it's pretty common, and they haven't let it interfere in their friendship, which is great.

The one saving grace about his whole mess is that she dubbed Jack to play Santa, which is something I wouldn't trade seeing for all the tea in China. He has such a whimsical personality sometimes, if he could only channel it into something like this, instead of nearly getting us into trouble, he might be a General by now.

Over the years, it's never ceased to amaze me what a paradox Jack O'Neill is. On one side, deadly warrior trained in all the most top secret methods of secret ops, and on the other hand, he's all mischievous teenager, with a smart remark always hot on the tip of his tongue and a toy at the tips of his fingers. He's unique, and I thank God for him every day. And, naturally, every night.

So here we stand, in the middle of a large room of small children in varying degrees of illness or injury. It's sad to see them stuck here at Christmas time, but they don't let it dampen their spirits. They're all gathered around, waiting for Jack. . . I mean Santa. . . to make his ho-ho-ho-ing appearance. I hope we got enough gifts to go around – there's more kids here than we anticipated.

"You owe me for this one," Daniel, to my left, says to Janet, who is on **his** left. "I was up until 3:30 am wrapping presents. My fingers are covered in paper cuts from wrap and ribbons."

"Well, we'll just have to see if we can make you feel a little better later tonight." She says it with a lascivious grin and a wink. Daniel and Janet **haven't** been as secretive as Jack and I when it comes to the status of their relationship.

Peppered in with the children are other members of the SGC, all looking like they're having a great time. Simmons, &*)&*), and Siler are all wearing silly-looking Santa hats, for which I believe Teal'c is responsible. I know for sure that he gave me one earlier, but I'll be darned if I'm putting it on.

"Major Carter," he says, arriving just as I'm trying to find a place to ditch the thing. "Are you not joining in the Christmas spirit?"

"Of course I am, Teal'c," I say, knowing that I'm blushing to beat the band. Caught, without a good excuse. "I was just always partial to reindeer antlers," I joke, and he smiles as if he understands. I wonder if he really does.

"Maybe it's time to do a bit of entertaining until you-know-who finally decides to make an appearance," Daniel says, glancing at his watch.

"What do we do to entertain this many kids clamoring for Christmas presents?" Janet asks as if she doesn't have a daughter of her own. Of course, said daughter is too old for such juvenile things as this, she'll be quick to remind you.

"How about a sing-along?" Daniel volunteers.

"Sure!" I agree. I don't have much of a voice, but these kids are hardly looking for O Holy Night.

The four of us, Teal'c included, make our way to the front of the room, where, on a small, raised platform sits the chair that Santa Jack will eventually occupy. For now, it's our way of getting the kids attention.

Just by the sheer concept that we're standing there, the kids quiet down and their attention is centered on us. I take a deep breath, hope for the best, and we begin.

"While we're waiting for our special guest," Daniel says with a smile, "we just thought we'd introduce ourselves. My name is Daniel." Just as he said this, Teal'c approached from behind and pulled a Santa cap down over his head, making the children roar with laughter. Teal'c's comic timing had come a long way over the years.

I take the microphone from him while he tries to remove the hat at least enough to see. "This is Doctor Janet. You probably know her, because she works here."

I see recognition on many of their faces, and a small girl waves to Janet, who is beside me. "This is Teal'c, and over there is Graham, and Walter, and you can just call the tall guy "Chief. And I'm Sam."

I hear giggling from the crowd at that, and I'm sure I know why. "What's so funny about that?" I ask with a smile.

One tiny girl stands up from the front of the crowd. "You're a girl, but you have a boy's name!" She giggles again, and I just can't get over how adorable that is.

"Well, my real name is Samantha, but I use Sam for short. What's your name?"

The little girl smiles and announces, "Cathy! But sometimes, when I was bad, Mommy calls me Catherine."

"That's exactly the same thing, then. You have a long name, so they make it shorter and easier by calling you Cathy." She beams at the idea that we have a common link, and smiles proudly at those around her.

"Now that you know all of us," I say, "how about we sing some Christmas songs! Maybe Santa will hear them and come sooner!"

All the kids cheer, and we begin to lead them in Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Up on the House Top, and then Jingle Bells. When it's over and there's still no sign of Jack, I lean toward Daniel while Janet introduces Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

"Go find out where he is!" I instruct, giving him no opportunity to rebel. He disappears into the crowd, and I see the swinging doors of the solarium move a moment later.

Moments later, the doors swing again, and a jolly "ho ho ho!" sets the crowd to squealing. I jump down, only too eager to surrender the "stage" to our own personal Santa Claus.

I'm constantly amazed at how good Jack is with kids. He was born to be a father, and I fantasize for a moment on what it'll be like when I make him one again sometime in the future. It'll be awhile, but we both definitely see it. We've had The Talk, not formally, but informally enough that we both know where we're headed.

I know for sure that I can't see myself with anybody else, ever. Why should I settle for second best?

A line has formed in front of Santa, where he's lifting a little boy onto his knee. The costume is really impressive; I'd never guess that's Jack up there if I didn't know better. But between the beard and mustache and the glasses, he's completely disguised. I'll bet even Cassie wouldn't recognize him.

My attention is dawn southward, where somebody is tugging on my jeans leg. I look down and see the small face of Jennifer, a girl of about five who had climbed into my lap earlier. She'd been orphaned in a car accident a week or so before, but has several good relatives ready to take her in. Still, there's a forlorn quality to her that just tugs at my heart strings.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I ask. I can't believe that I, rough and tough Air Force Major, used the word 'sweetheart.'

"Are you gonna sit on Santa's lap, Sam?"

"No, honey," I tell her, thinking of all the evil things I could do in that particular lap.

"But Sam!" She exclaims. "You hafta sit on Santa's lap, or you won't get what you want for Christmas."

"Jen, sweetie, that only works for kids. Santa doesn't really bring presents to grownups."

"He would to you, though. I know he would!" she exclaims with such strong faith. "My Mom says that Santa loves everybody! She says . . ." The tears fill her eyes and overflow, dripping down her cheeks as she realizes she was talking about her deceased Mother. I can relate.

"I'm sure she's right," I concede, squatting beside her so we're on the same eye level. "I just don't think that Santa will be bringing me anything this year."

"Have you been bad?"

I know I'm blushing now. "Let's just say that I haven't been as good as I probably should be."

Somehow, the inquisition is making me uncomfortable, and I need to get out of here. "Look, you'd better get in line, and I'm going to go to the bathroom."

"You're coming back, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," I reassure, kissing her little hand before I leave the room. Why did that little girl's innocent questions make me so skittish?

I spend probably ten minutes in the bathroom, first taking care of business and then splashing water over my face. It doesn't seem to stop the crimson from rising to my cheeks every time I think of my . . . . boyfriend just seems so trite, but for lack of a better term . . . boyfriend in that red suit. Oh, my God. Do I have a Santa fetish?

Chuckling to myself at the ridiculousness of that concept, I use a scratchy paper towel to dab the water from my face and exit the restroom with my composure intact for the moment.

By the time I return to the solarium, the line has been drastically reduced, and many of the kids are happily unwrapping the toys we brought to distribute. Apparently, Jennifer's been talking to several of her new friends, though, because as I come through the door, I'm grabbed by the arms on both sides.

"C'mon, Sam. You're gonna sit on Santa's lap," a small boy of about nine says as I'm dragged towards the dais. I look up and see "Santa" smiling, obviously enjoying my predicament. You think this is funny, Jack? We'll see just who has the last laugh, I think to myself.

"Okay, kids, I'll go. I'll go!"

They release me, and I approach him, knowing that the grin on my face is anything but innocent, but since there is nobody behind or beside him any longer, I know the look is just between the two of us.

"Hi, little girl," he says to me with a jolly laugh. The rest of the room and its occupants fade away as I make the step up to him and settle myself in his lap. I decide this is going to be fun.

"Hi, Santa," I say in my best sultry voice, low enough so only the two of us can hear.

"What would you like for Christmas?" he asks me, sounding so much like Santa, it's amazing.

"Oh, I have a lot of things I'd like for Christmas," I say, settling myself more firmly on his lap, squirming in a way I know he loves. In a way that'll definitely get a reaction. "Most of all, though," I say, drawing close and whispering in his ear, "I'd like to take you home and take off that red suit myself, revealing all of you that's hiding underneath it. I want to undress you until you stand naked before me, and I want you to do the same to me. I want to lead you out onto that wonderfully private deck of yours and make love to you underneath the stars until neither of us can stay awake and we've been up way past time for the real Santa to come. I want to find you under my tree every Christmas, clothing optional, of course, until we're both old and wrinkled and our kids are wheeling us around in wheelchairs."

His eyes, as I've given him my own Christmas list, have grown large and round, and he's obviously stunned into silence. His having no idea what to say is amusing me to no end. I look into his eyes, expecting to see the warmth of love in the chocolate brown depths. It's my turn to be shocked as I notice that I'm being greeted by hazel ones instead.

A familiar voice is calling my name, and I'm not sure how long I've sat here in shock, my mind spelling out to me what's actually happening. I turn my head, and there, amongst the crowd, standing beside Daniel and Teal'c, is none other than Colonel Jack O'Neill. I'm mortified! What I just said . . .

And then there's another voice, this time from much closer. "If you don't mind, Major," says the unmistakable voice of General Hammond, "I think Colonel O'Neill, you, and I'd better take this conversation somewhere else.

It was said loud enough that Jack heard, too, and our eyes meet as I rise and "Santa" leads us both from the solarium.

Some time later, we stand before the General, who has shed the Santa suit and is back in uniform. We've explained the situation as honestly as we can; given the circumstances, lying would be of little use, we've both decided.

He's given us a lecture on discretion, making it clear that he approves of us, and will turn a blind eye as long as we continue to operate as we always have: professionally. I, for one, was shocked, but pleasantly so.

Off the hook, we both breathe a sigh of relief. I'm still embarrassed, though, at the personal things the General heard come from my own lips. It's tantamount to having my Dad hear such things, since the General is very much a father figure for all of us.

"May I ask one question, Sir?" I finally screw up my courage to ask. It's hardly appropriate, but I just have to know.

"Permission granted, Major."

"Sir, why were . . . how did . . . why did you . . ."

"Major. . ."

"Sorry, Sir. Why were you the one in the Santa outfit. The plan was for Colonel O'Neill to be Santa."

Jack stepped in at that point, his voice gentle, trying to explain. "I didn't get a chance to tell you, but the kids were all screaming for Santa, and we were already behind schedule and . . ."

"And the suit wouldn't fit him," the General finishes with a smile. "Even with a pillow, Jack just couldn't get the suit to look convincing on him, so I told him I'd stand in. Nobody knew until Jack came into the solarium, just about the time you had your little visit with Santa."

I know I'm blushing again; I may as well stop fighting it. "Once again, General, I'm really sorry," I say sincerely. And not just because we got caught or because we're embarrassed. I feel better knowing that this man that we trust knows the truth.

"Apology accepted, Major," he says with a smile. "Now if I may, I'd like to recommend that you both go home. I think you have quite a few gifts to prepare, Colonel." Jack looks at him, puzzled. "I'm sure the Major will be happy to give you some ideas," he winks at me.

Jack still seems a little puzzled, and whispers, "what did you **say** to him?" out of the corner of his mouth as we turn to go.

Now I **know** I'm blushing again.

"Oh, Jack," Hammond calls before we can leave the room.

"Yes?" Jack turns back to him.

"Maybe you'd better take this with you." He tosses a bundle at Jack, who catches it adeptly.

"General?" he questions. The way it's gathered and covered in a bag, we can't see what it is.

"Just take it. Major Carter and yourself may have use of it later on. Now go home." He waves a hand, shooing us from the hospital room he'd commandeered for our little discussion. I presume it's the same one he'd changed in to begin with.

Taking the orders of our superior, we leave the room, not stopping until we're outside the building.

"Phew," Jack says with a smile. "That wasn't exactly how I'd imagined him finding out, but . . ."

"But at least he seems okay with it." Our eyes lock, and we're suddenly embracing. We know it can't last, and pull away moments later. "But what's in the sack?"

Jack breaks the seal on the bag, smiling as he takes in the contents. "When we get home, you definitely have to tell me what you said to him."

He displays the interior of the bag to me, and there, nestled in a neat pile, is the Santa suit.

"What does it mean?" he asks.

"It means that Santa's gonna bring me what I want for Christmas," I laugh, pecking him on the cheek before I run away to gather the snow in my hands. I'm already to the parking lot by the time he catches up to me, a melting snowball dripping down his neck.

"You'll get what you want, all right," he says with a look that starts a slow burn in my belly. "Your house or mine?"

"Your house, my car," I say, just as eager to get out of here as he am. As I pull out of the parking lot, Jack opens his window, calling out.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

The End


End file.
